


Dreams from the past, with no future

by Nelja-in-English (Nelja)



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Animal Death, Community: ladiesbingo, Do Not Archive (The Magnus Archives), Dream Sex, F/F, Fire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:29:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26342635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nelja/pseuds/Nelja-in-English
Summary: When Gertrude doesn't feed the Eye for a while, it starts feeding on her bad memories. Agnes is part of them, even if they both forgot.
Relationships: Agnes Montague/Gertrude Robinson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 8
Collections: Ladies Bingo 2020





	Dreams from the past, with no future

There were cute, small houses on every side of the alley. Agnes heard a meow, and saw a cat in a garden. It was on the other side of an iron fence, but Agnes could easily reach through and touch it.

It screeched, jumped back, and caught fire. It started to run. Agnes pouted and kept walking.

She had been five years old. She had been so praised for this by the people who raised her. She hadn't wanted them to be disappointed, so she'd never told them she had only wanted to pet the cat.

This time though - she can follow the screaming cat through the stairs. She can see a little girl throwing a blanket on him, trying to extinguish the flames. But of course, nothing will stop them. There's no cat anymore, just a heap of cinders. The cinders are still screaming for a long time.

"Auto-cannibalism, now? I need to give you something to eat, you're getting annoying."

Agnes realizes the voice is not talking to the dead cat, nor to her. She looks in its direction, and sees a sharp woman in her thirties, wearing old-school pyjamas. And then she remembers that this is Gertrude Robinson, that a long time has passed since the cat, and that the little girl who was crying was Gertrude Robinson too.

"Did you know?" Agnes asks. "I didn't."

Gertrude looks at her with a contempt that can't hide her curiosity. They never met. Agnes can still feel who it is, her anchor, the woman who bound her to humanity, who made her look back, who prevented her from burning bright, and maybe from burning away.

Did Gertrude know what Agnes looked like? She's a spy of the Eye, she must have looked at some photographs. Agnes feels the sudden desire to have this woman look at her more deeply, this woman she's linked to. Who doesn't answer her question.

"You love to see me hurt people," Agnes says. She has no reason to justify herself, but she wants to. "It's what you are. You collect stories about it. You're just annoyed because it's you this time."

Gertrude snorts. "You assume I love being what I am."

Agnes is confused for a while, because why wouldn't she? What else is it to love?

"I'm no longer what I'm meant to be, and it's you who stole my destiny," she answers. "Do you regret this like I do?"

Gertrude looks at her again. "I'm very glad to have derailed your plans." 

"Do you still resent me?"

Gertrude won't answer honestly. She smiles; it's a lie, she shouldn't smile about this, of all things. "I resent the people who raised you more. It's them I wanted to hurt, not you. This doesn't change my mind about it."

"You didn't answer my question!" Agnes points out. She doesn't know the answer she wants to hear. She's no longer pure fire, but she's still meant to feed from the pain of destruction. But she also wants Gertrude to understand her. Is it because of their bond? And since when does she try to get what she wants?

"I don't hate your fire as much as I should," Gertrude answers with a nod. "I still mind the spider silk between us very much." And Agnes approves. She hates spiders too. Clearly she doesn't mind the Eye... as much as she should. She very much wants to be watched right now.

"Do you miss the intimate connection to your god?" Agnes asks. 

Gertrude chuckles in a way Agnes finds disrespectful. "Not at all. It's the best part of the deal, really."

"How can you not love your God?" Agnes asks, more shocked that she would imagine. "What makes you strong if you don't? How can you even say these things out loud!"

Gertrude blinks at the eye in the sky and comments "Asshole." Agnes is scandalized, but she still loves that Gertrude - of course she means it, but she shows off for her. She won't ask her how she feels about Agnes' god. She has already confessed not hating the fire, and - Agnes thinks it's the best she can get.

"Even so, do you love to look at me?" she asks, daringly.

Gertrude has another fake smile. "Maybe, but that's just for me. You're very pretty."

"You can say hot," Agnes answers. "I don't mind jokes. And I'm not as innocent as I look." She even manages not to blush.

Despite appearances, she and Gertrude are almost the same age. And even if Agnes can't really touch anyone, and wouldn't let them, she's heard things, she knows things. Agnes would love to say she's not innocent at all, but it's Gertrude Robinson, and Agnes is still intimidated by her - not scared - not admiring either! Resentful, and not grateful! It's quite complicated. Gertrude looks dangerous, though Agnes has nothing left she can take. Maybe it's because she holds part of Agnes' soul. But it should be mutual, shouldn't it? Agnes has power over her too.

"You can look at me," she says, and she opens her nightshirt. She enjoys Gertrude's confusion, her inability to look away. She lets the fabric fall to her feet. She's fully naked now. And Gertrude told her she was pretty. It arouses her more than she would have thought, with only the pressure of Gertrude's eyes on her, full of confused lust.

"What do you want?" Agnes asks.

She loves to see Gertrude swallow hard, as her eager gaze is caressing every part of her body.

"I could say I'd prefer to look at scenes of desolation and death," Gertrude answers defensively, "but it would be a dirty lie. What do you want?"

"Maybe I just want you to look at me, because it's what you're meant to do, you and your God. Me more than any other." Agnes answers. She's heard about Gertrude's powers, but she's not sure they work in dreams. Sometimes she just wants to be honest with someone. "Or maybe I'd like you to desperately wish to touch me. Maybe I want you to do it, and burn. Or..." She wants all of this. She doesn't want any of this. "Will you undress too?"

She does. Agnes likes the shape of her body. It looks stronger than hers, even if she knows it isn't. It has some small scars, while Agnes's skin is pristine. Her breasts are bigger than hers, less firm too. 

Gertrude steps forward, closer to Agnes. Agnes shivers all over, her hair shiny with sparks. She's difficult to get close to.

"You're very sad," Gertrude says. It’s true, and it’s not pleasant to hear it; that’s what the Eye avatars are. "But that's alright. I'm not very happy either. Kiss me."

Agnes' heart blazes but her body gets coy, and her lips land on Gertrude's cheek. Gertrude's skin sizzles, and when Agnes recoils, she has a burn mark, red and scorching, exactly the shape of Agnes's lips. It's an obscene and intimate mark. But Gertrude seems unfazed, and Agnes is disappointed.

"We are still in the Eye's domain," Gertrude comments. "My loss is old. New marks are only there to be seen. My turn now."

Agnes' heart is beating fast. She hopes that Gertrude will be braver than she was, will kiss her on the lips. Oh, why is she the one always wanting, burning? 

Gertrude does kiss her, and she does a lot more, exploring all of Agnes’ body with calloused hands. It’s like a thirst she never knew she had, the hands on her skin hot, but so different from the fire, softer and more demanding too. She’s pretty and she’s powerful and she’s finally touched in a way that makes her understand that the world is not all fire, that water is soft and powerful and you can drink it all in. In the end, Agnes’ legs are wobbly and she has to lean on Gertrude. This time she doesn’t burn her skin, as if the first mark had been just for show, as if the pleasure had softened her.

"I'm sorry about your cat," she says, in the hazy confusion of her ecstasy. "I just wanted to pet it." She has never told this to anyone.

"I know," Gertrude's voice is distant, but not cruel. "It's what you are."

When Agnes wakes up, her cheeks are burning with embarrassment, remembering her dream. It's not what she was meant to do, and certainly not with Gertrude Robinson! She wants to be seen, of course she does, but not this way! She wonders if Gertrude will remember this, and she is filled with shame again. She can still feel a very human arousal, though, when she thinks about Gertrude remembering the mark of her kiss, being the only one able to feel it, to see it.

She remembers that their bond is the spiders' fault in the first place and she sighs in relief, and a bit of disappointment. They made them feel this way. It’s what they do.

Whatever happened, she decides firmly, however good it felt, maybe even like a human connection, it was nothing but a cheap trick. She will do her best to forget about it.


End file.
